


Inviolable

by glorious_clio



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alderaan, Family, Gen, coping with the galaxy falling apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 02:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: Deara has a new niece to love and spoil, and teach how to smash things with hammers.Meanwhile, the Galaxy has gone to hell.





	Inviolable

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats on our mutual Hugo Award, dear reader!!!! 
> 
> _Girl who has come from so far, been brought from so far,_  
_sometimes your glance flashes out under the sky._  
_Rumbling, storm, cyclone of fury,_  
_you cross above my heart without stopping._
> 
> _-Pablo Neruda, "Almost Out of the Sky"_

“We’ve been waiting a long time for you,” Deara said. 

The tiny infant was bundled in her arms. She’d had a full checkup when she was born, but Breha’s physicians had almost insisted upon verifying Leia’s health the morning after her arrival on Alderaan, and issued their own statement regarding the health and viability of the newest little _ Dauphine_. 

Teeny Leia Organa was finally sleeping, exhausted after a rather bumpy landing and the barrage of tests. 

The physicians had found nothing wrong with the baby, besides a resistance to sleep. She was very small, and the suspicion was that she didn’t make it quite to term. But her lungs were strong and her appetite was already ferocious. She would thrive on Alderaan, in the cool mountain air. 

“She arrived just in time,” Breha said, leaning back and closing her eyes. The older sister yawned. The galaxy was in shambles, but Alderaan had something hopeful to look to, now. 

“Did she keep you up half the night?” Deara asked. 

“Mmmm. One of us had to be up with her, she would not consent to sleeping in her cradle. Or sleeping at all.”

Deara softly traced Leia’s ear. The baby crinkled her nose in response, then snuggled down further in her pure white blanket. Deara knew that, even though the laundry at the palace was rather good, it wouldn’t be white for long. 

“Goddess, she’s perfect,” Deara said. She’d seen babies that were all red, babies whose heads were squashed a bit from birth. Leia’s coloring was even and peachy, much lighter than her parents’. Her eyes were already a dark brown, framed by thick lashes. Her nose, ears, and mouth were deceptively delicate. But those _ cheeks_, they were wondrously fat. A wisp of dark hair under her hat. Warm in her blanket. All ten fingers, all ten toes. She was gorgeous. 

Breha smiled proudly, her eyes still closed. Her hair was in a loose braid, no silver threads crowned her. Her red robe was worn, sleeves pushed to the elbow. No one would have expected the Queen to have such warm and colorful apartments, but Deara had grown up in the palace, too. She still had a suite of multi-colored rooms in wait for her. 

“Her official portrait is tomorrow. I’m glad that she’s finally getting some beauty rest.” Breha said, snuggling down under her own blanket. 

Deara chuckled. 

“And then we should talk about the Investment ceremony,” Breha said quietly, cracking her eyes to gauge her younger sister’s reaction. 

Right. The reminder that her niece wasn’t just her niece. She would have the weight of Alderaan on her tiny shoulders. 

Deara thought she’d feel relief at losing the White Robe that she received at her sister’s coronation. But Leia was too small to wear it. 

To Breha, she said simply, “Why don’t you go take a nap? I’ve got this girl. If she wakes, I’ll give her a tour of the palace.”

“That... that sounds wonderful, _ thank _ you.” Breha forced herself to her feet and made her way to her bedroom where Bail was already asleep. “There’s milk for her in the fridge, if she’s hungry, go ahead and warm up two ounces.” 

Deara quietly rocked the sleeping baby, humming nonsense, absolutely smitten with the tiny weight of her niece nestled into her. Even when Leia woke, screaming and ridiculously hungry, Deara was enchanted, shedding the blanket while walking her to the small kitchen. Alderaan had long ago set up a program where nursing parents could donate their extra breastmilk for anyone who was interested in receiving. Deara predicted a surge of donations, now that the princess royal was reliant on the supply. 

“Think of that, Leia. All of Alderaan nourishes you now.” 

The tiny princess gave no response other than the eager gurgles. 

She leaned down and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Sorry for whatever loss brought her to them, sorry for her life now dedicated to service. “It’s so hard, at times. I won’t lie to you. You can always count upon me to tell you the truth. But you have wonderful parents, you have wonderful aunts if I do say so myself. You won’t be alone.”

Deara returned to the living room, content to feed Leia -- she even dared to burp her. Leia screamed in her aunt’s ear for her trouble. Bail came out of the bedroom, blinking, but Deara shooed him away before he could offer to take her. 

With her hunger sated, for now, Deara swaddled her again and expected to rock the girl back to sleep, but sure enough, Leia didn’t settle again. She’d stopped crying, but she also didn’t tear her eyes away from Deara. 

“Well, if you’re serious about that tour, I’d better take you,” Deara told the baby. 

Leia gave her a coo. 

Deara was confident the stroll through the palace and the formal portraits would bore the baby to sleep, but she was wrong. Leia stayed awake through the litany of relatives, “And this is your great great great great Grandmother Brina who was famous for two things: her impassioned speeches to the Galactic Senate during the horrific earthquakes she lived through, when Alderaan needed aid. And for painting a mustache on her face and gambling away half the crown jewels by the end of her reign. It’s said her handmaidens hid the other half so that her daughter would have something to wear at her coronation. I think it’s a myth, though. I think she sold the jewels to help with relief efforts, though the mustache is a fun bit of color.” 

And so on down the line, Queen after Queen, each full of fire and life and humanity. All committed to service to the planet. The lines before the Organas had mostly been forgotten. They came to the throne at the same time as the constitutional documents were written; the first Queen, Todra Organa was handpicked by the shining new Governors as a stabilizing force. “Queen Nyla, our great great great great great great great great great great great great grand Aunt was the first to be described as a Moon,” Deara informed Leia. “She wore lots of silvers and grays, which has become traditional. Although your mother mixes it up with other colors. 

Leia managed to blow a spit bubble. 

“Impressive. Leia. You’d better get used to white, though. That’s the real color of our House. I don’t mind, it looks dramatic when I get paint on it, and really, most of the stone I use is white so it hides the dust.” 

They wandered through the corridors, the walls crowded with old fashioned portraits, the ceilings high, the carpets plush underfoot. Up and down public and private staircases. Deara left off the sparring rooms in the heart of the palace, knowing Breha wanted that particular honor. Not that Leia would remember, but it was the principal of the thing. 

Finally they paused at Deara’s suite. “This is me,” she half warned the tiny princess before throwing open the doors. 

It was painted in lurid pinks and greens, the duvet sported a dramatic red nebula that Alderaan claimed was part of their system. The rooms were tidy, free of dust, but Deara crossed the space to the walk-in closet, pulling out a very large box of craft supplies. 

“Want to make something?” she asked Leia. 

Leia blinked rapidly. 

“Me too.” Deara walked back out and nestled Leia on the middle bed in between some pillows to fence her in. “Don’t move.” She went back for the box, and then settled across from Leia at the foot of the bed. 

Deara pursed her lips and dug through the box, under Leia’s wakeful gaze. What did a baby princess need? She didn’t sleep, so she would need company in her royal nursery. Deara thought of a plush toy, but dismissed it out of hand. She didn’t care for needle arts. 

In the box, her reaching hands brushed against some heavy cord. “Aha!” she pulled it out triumphantly. “A mobile?”

Leia blinked once more.

“I’m taking your blinks for yes, Leia. Hope that’s ok.” 

Deara dug through more things for the mobile, dowels to cross, shiny fashion crystals she’d liked ages ago and never used. All colors, all sizes. 

Leia didn’t do much while her aunt worked: braiding the cord, punching holes in the dowels with an awl she had, threading the crystals with wire and attaching them at strategic points. Deara held it up and checked the balance. 

“This is where you two got to,” Breha said, startling her sister. 

“Sorry, I was just...” Deara said. “I hope you weren’t worried or anything.” Deara didn’t need to be told that Leia was the most precious thing in her sister’s life. 

Breha came to sit next to Deara. 

“Well, the mobile must work,” Breha leaned against her. “Look, she’s asleep.”

Deara smiled at the baby. Sure enough, she was fast asleep, her eyelids resting heavily against her cheeks. 

* * *

Kista, Breha’s secretary, worked very hard on the Investment ceremony. Harder than Deara, that was for sure. And Leia was too young to shoulder a burden like that. 

Deara remembered her own very clearly, tacked on at the end of Breha’s coronation. The younger sister had rushed from the palace to the temple, while Breha went on her procession. Deara received soil, water, and oil. It had been broadcasted, as this was broadcasted today, but no one watched hers, thankfully. Her sister had been sun and moon that day.

But Deara had curled up in her big sister’s bed (or rather, early the following morning after the ball), both of them missing their mother so much it hurt.

But now, there is a new high priestess in the temple, and Bail carried in Leia from the east door. The monarch is never present for this ceremony, but Bail’s sisters and their partners were all in the first rows of the temple, Anla Ran and Miko Caltrel were there, the regional Governors and any other person who would have been slighted by a lack of invitation. 

There is no sword, scepter, or orb; that came later, or in Deara's case, wouldn't come at all. This is a blessing of the body. 

Deara approached the altar and draped the heavy white cloak over Leia, but mostly over Bail’s shoulder. They’re rehearsed this several times, and Leia -- wide awake as usual -- didn’t even blink. She seemed to sense the solemnity of the ceremony, her eyes wide and watchful. 

Deara turned to the high priestess, who intoned in a deep voice, “Deara Organa, you are released from your service until Alderaan calls upon you again.” 

Breha bowed to her, to Leia in Bail’s arms, and then settled in the front row next to Rouge Antilles.

The rest of the ceremony was deceptively simple; Leia’s feet were brushed with soil from the sacred mountains that protected the Palace. Her hands were painted with water from the western sea. And finally, holy oil blessed by the high priestess herself, sealed on her forehead. So she would walk the paths of Queens of Alderaan, her presence and effect like water, carving her own winding path, but blessed by the old ways, to be a steadying force in her own right. For now she is one of them, but someday she will lead, lonely and apart. 

“Now, Leia Amidala Organa. Be warned that you may be called to serve Alderaan at any time. Prepare yourself to shoulder this burden.”

Bail processed, with the baby, out the main nave. The rest of the party followed in silence, as if to impress upon all who observed the weight of the crown Leia would someday wear for all of their sakes. 

Breha had done this once, when she was a baby. Left at the back of the procession, Deara only felt a shadow cross her heart. 

* * *

Deara was stuck, well and truly blocked. Completely out of ideas, drained emotionally and artistically. She hadn’t even doodled in her sketchbook, treating it like a diary for the first time in her entire life. 

And she was filled with so much _ rage_, she didn’t even know what to do with it all. 

It wasn’t just her - even Bail had come back to her sister, seeking refuge. 

Sharu refugees from Rafa IV had been fleeing Hutt enslavement - but on Rafa V, Palpatine’s troopers separated children from their caretakers, and so far, there were no promises for reunification. 

Only whispers of creating new “stormtroopers,” instead of clone troopers. 

What could you create in the face of that? Deara had the urge to crawl under her work table and never come out again. 

Not all artists were stuck, however. Anla’s pen seemed to flow continuously. Deara liked Anla but found her moon poetry incomprehensible.

Stone, though. Stones makes sense. Usually. 

She couldn’t make it move like she used to. Mostly she just shattered it, taking her rage out on something. Cracking columns of stone and then leaving them to gather dust probably wasn’t art, though. Not really. 

Her comm beeped and Deara lunged for it. 

“Bail’s home,” Breha said, as if it hadn’t been splashed all over the holonet. “Want to come to the beach with us? We’re going to introduce Leia to the sea.”

“Yes. Yes! What time do we leave?”

As Deara packed a suit and towel back at her flat, she felt there was something to be said for not becoming a hermit. Seeing Leia’s reaction to the ocean? Was worth crawling out of her own despair for. 

* * *

Leia was four when she started shattering teacups; Breha called Deara out of desperation. 

“I can take her for the day, she can shatter some stuff in my studio if she wants,” Deara offered.

So here she was, dressed in yellow instead of her usual white, her hair pulled into two tails on either side of her head. 

“Here you go, Leia,” Deara said, dropping a large chunk of marble in front of her niece. “Take a hammer to this instead of throwing teacups around.”

“I am not _ throwing _ teacups.” Leia pouted. 

Deara surveyed the toddler. “Right. Well, whatever.” She dropped some safety glasses on her face, covered her hair (and to hold the ill-fitting glasses in place) with a kerchief, and passed over a mallet. “Don’t hurt yourself by mistake.” 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Make something. Instead of breaking it. Or rather, by breaking it. If you can’t make something new by shattering teacups, your energy is better spent elsewhere.”

“Can you make art from broken cups?”

“Sure, champ. But I’d advise you not to use your mom’s tea set in that particular endeavor.” 

Leia frowned at the marble in front of her. 

Deara left her to it, going back to her own project. She was painting a commission for the community of Aplaarora, a delicate painting full of needles and thread. She wasn’t usually asked to paint, but marble hadn’t moved for her in so, so long. This commission, and the colors that lodged themselves under her nails, was a welcome break. 

She got lost in it, but before long, Leia tugged on her aunt’s leggings. 

“Can I show you?” She’d removed her kerchief and glasses. There were little marks from the bridge on her nose. 

“Sure.” Deara plopped her paintbrush in a cup of water that wanted changing. She followed Leia back to where she had left her to find a... “Is that a mountain?”

“Yes. It’s a bookend. For papa.”

Deara nodded. “Do you want to make another one? So he has a pair.”

Leia sighed. “No.” She wiped her forehead like there was sweat on her brow.

“Fair enough. Tea?” Deara offered. 

Leia winced, but was even now too polite to shake her head. 

“Sorry. I mean, I probably have some juice around. I definitely have ice cream.”

“Ice cream, please!” Leia brightened up. 

“Ice cream it is.” Leia reached up and latched onto Deara’s hand. 

Her studio didn’t boast much more than workspace, but the small galley style kitchen was nice for storing sustenance. Mostly she used the sink for washing supplies. For now, though, Deara pulled out the ice cream and two clean-ish spoons. 

“Bowls?” Leia asked primly.

“No. Come on.” She sat down on the floor with her back to the refrigeration unit. She passed a spoon to Leia. Opening the container, she dug around for a spoonful, before passing the carton to Leia. The girl caught on quickly, fishing a frozen berry from the cream.

They passed the ice cream back and forth a few times. 

“Next time you feel like breaking something, come here instead, ok?” Deara said after a few minutes. 

“I don’t... do it on purpose.”

Deara stilled. Leia was scooping out a soft spoonful and didn’t notice. Deara suddenly remembered a flash, a whisper, a story, that Bail had been at the Jedi Temple when it burned, had witnessed at least one murder of a child. She didn’t want to think about where her niece came from, not now, not ever. Too many kids in the galaxy had been taken away from their parents. It didn’t start with the Jedi, and it certainly hadn’t ended there.

“Well... if you don’t do it on purpose, let’s think of why it might happen.”

Leia sighed dramatically. “Unty Miko’s been teaching me about the Constitution.” 

“That sounds like a lot,” Deara admitted. “You know you can talk to me about anything. I had to be the _ Dauphine _ too, you know. Before you were born.”

“So did mama.”

“Sure, but your mama’s the Queen now. She might not remember how hard it is to be the _ Dauphine_. I remember. It was some of the hardest work I did.”

Leia nodded solemnly. “Do you remember my mama?”

“You mean when she was the _ Dauphine_?”

“No, I mean...” she trailed off and popped her spoon in her mouth for a minute, thinking. Deara waited, still and placid. “My mama who had me. I dream about her sometimes. Was she a _ Dauphine _ too?”

Oh. “I... I don’t think I ever met her, darling. Your papa found you in an orphanage after the Clone Wars, remember? You know the story. Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?”

“No! She was real!” Leia shoved the carton back in Deara’s hand. She looked down and realized in shock that it had all melted. 

“Okay. She definitely was real, then,” Deara said. 

Leia tossed her spoon aside and burrowed in her aunt’s side. 

“I don’t feel good,” she murmured. 

“Hmmm, we ate a lot of ice cream,” Deara said. “I have a cot in the back, do you want to lie down for a little bit?”

“Yes, please,” Leia said, shedding a few tears on her aunt’s tunic. 

“You got it, champ.” She slid the melted ice cream back into the freezer and picked Leia up to carry her to the cot.

Leia didn’t fall asleep, exactly. Deara knew as well as anyone the girl barely slept. But she did fall into a sort of trance, as Deara rubbed her back soothingly, silently hoping she wouldn’t throw up. 

“We waited so long for you,” Deara told the girl. “I will do anything for you. I will do anything to protect you. Your feelings are real, your memories are real, your thoughts are real.”

“Promise?” she asked, a plaintive note in her voice. 

“Yes. And if all these things are too much, you can always, always come to me. I will help you the best way I know how.”

“Hammers?” Leia offered.

Deara chuckled. “Yes, and ice cream and backrubs. Forever and ever.”

“I love you, Aunty.”

“I love you too. I’m going to go work on my painting. Do you think you’ll be good to rest?”

Leia tensed. “Please don’t leave.”

Deara sighed and brushed a hand over Leia’s ear. “Okay, I’ll stay. Close your eyes.”

Leia obeyed, and Dera rubbed her back until Breha came for her daughter. 

* * *

Another year, another mandatory Empire Day Ball. 

Anyone with any position on the planet were filling up the ballrooms with color, with drink and dancing. Various Imperial officers had also been invited. Camera droids also circulated, as if to advertise how loyal Alderaan was. See? _ See? _ The lifting of glasses, the high spirits, the colorful clothes. Above reproach (although everyone hoped for another freak blizzard to descend from the mountains, but it was too much to hope for after the storm three years ago). 

The only consolation was when Deara snatched up Breha and they snuck away from the festivities to celebrate her birthday properly. Of course, Breha and Bail would be sure to spoil her in the morning, but that didn’t count, no doubt distracted by hosting half of Alderaan in the ballroom later that night. 

This was furtive and the secret was what made it fun. Leia was extraordinarily good at keeping secrets. 

And now the timing was right....

“Your Grace, may I have this dance?” Deara curtsied before her niece. 

Seven year old Leia was plump and pink, the picture of health. Her shining brown hair was caught in two enormous buns on either side of her face. Deara knew first-hand that there were extensions to fill them out to an impossible size, but one day she’d be able to do it naturally. Today, and as ever, she wore a simple white gown, with a playful bias cut skirt that flared out when she spun like a top. 

“Of course, Aunty Deara,” Leia replied with a gracious curtsy of her own. 

Breha smiled indulgently at this ruse, as Deara swept Leia across the dance floor, through the doors, down the corridor and, after triple checking that no one was watching (be they friend, foe, or camera droid), slipped into a secret passageway. 

“C’mon!” urged the former _ Dauphine_. 

“Where are we going this year?” Leia asked. 

“You’ll see!” 

She led Leia up and up and up and, reaching a door Leia had never been able to open, Deara withdrew a small silver key. In a flash, she opened the door and ushered Leia through it. 

“What is this place?” she asked in wonder. There were no windows to peer out of, the walls were painted a soft blue, the ceiling was very low. There were cozy chairs and a deep carpet. Not much in the way of ornamentation, other than a portrait of Queen Bara on a side table. 

“This room was a secret playroom for your mother, and me,” Deara said, locking the door behind them. “It’s wedged between two floors, so when you look from the outside, the lack of window isn’t obvious. And it’s only accessible by the secret passageways. It’s a sure bet the Empire hasn’t found this room yet.”

“It’s lovely....”

“It’s yours. It’s known as the Dauphine’s Chamber. You are of an age and a rank that you may have secrets. The _ Dauphine _ can admit anyone she wishes.” Deara passed over the key.

Leia took it solemnly. 

Deara gathered up her turquoise skirt and knelt in front of Leia. 

“There are very few perks to this position, and the public scrutiny, especially on a day like today can feel like it weighs a lot. But you are good at keeping secrets. This room is your secret. Officially, your mother doesn’t even know of it, though I’m sure she really remembers. 

She doesn’t have to apologize to Leia for the sheer fact that her birthday falls on Empire Day. Truth be told, it looks like loyalty that her parents celebrate both simultaneously. But the Royal Family bites their tongues all through the official celebrations. 

“I hope you won’t always have to share your birthday,” Deara whispered, even as she was sure of their safety.

“If you tell your wishes, they won’t come true,” Leia whispered back. “I get so angry at the Empire, it’s hard to pretend to like them, like today.”

“Just so,” Deara agreed. “This is a place where you can be as furious as you like.” 

Leia threw herself into Deara’s arms. “Thank you for my room, and for your wish. I love them both.”

Deara dropped kisses in the part of Leia’s hair. They snuggled a moment longer when Leia pushed back, and tucked the key deep in her pocket. She smoothed her dress expertly. 

“We have to go back,” she said sadly.

“We do. You have a role to fill.”

Leia nodded.

Deara checked both their hairdos, and then helped Leia lock the door on their way out. 

Back down the twisting staircases, through the corridors, and (swinging her again, so as to look as if they’d never left the party) back to the Empire Day Ball. 

“Thank you for the dance, Aunty.” Leia stepped away with another curtsy. 

Deara mirrored her. “I’m always ready to serve Alderaan whenever she requires it.” 

Leia laughed, then turned and scurried back to her parents. 

It was quite late. Yet no one dared to be the first to depart. As was her wont, Deara waited until the party was distracted by the fireworks, then sick of the Empire Day celebrations, slipped away into the night. 

For the first time in years, she had an idea for a statue. 


End file.
